"You've got to be kidding me. I'll crush you." Alaric towers over Mac by at least a foot, and while she's muscular, he's a football player. There's no way this'll work.

She puts her hands on his shoulders, spins him so his back is to her. "Just do it," she says, and that's her instructor voice, the one that expects him to ask how high when she says jump.

He grumbles out, "Yes, ma'am," just as Pawel yells for them to fall.

His heart stops in the moment between when he tilts backwards and when she catches him, bending at the knees to lower him slowly to the ground rather than take his full weight. He lies there on the mats looking up, her black belt almost touching his face as she crouches over him.

She pats his shoulder, says quietly, "I've got you, Ric." And he figures yeah, maybe she does.